Saturday, May 13, 2017

I left my old life, and my broken heart, back in Michigan. When I moved to New York City for a fresh start, I didn’t know I would be made a sinful offer I couldn’t refuse…
My billionaire businessman boss decided that being the most powerful man on the East Coast wasn’t enough. He needed political power, too. But who would vote for a womanizing playboy with a different model on his arm every week? If he wanted to win, he needed a respectable wife…he needed me.
I had the looks, the small town charm—I was even already his employee, but I was willing to pretend to be so much more. And I’ve already signed a non-disclosure agreement, making me the perfect choice.
But will there come a point where pretend just isn’t enough?

She stepped over to the security desk and dropped her license and proof of employment in front of the guard. Her hands were sweaty and she kept glancing nervously around the busy lobby. Everyone seemed to be in such a hurry. “Excuse me, sir, but I believe you have a badge for me? My name is Holly McIntyre and I just moved here from Michigan to work for Mr. Cantrell. I’ve never been to New York City and—”
“Here’s your card, sweetheart,” the guard said in a thick Brooklyn accent, slapping a piece of plastic down on the desk. “And a word of advice? Don’t talk so much. You need to be tough to make it in this building.”

Holly nodded and meekly slid the ID off the counter before turning toward the elevators. She felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment and internally abashed herself for rambling to a perfect stranger. She was used to chatting with everyone back in Michigan and now she’d just made herself look like a fool to the first person she met in the building. What a great way to start to her first day.
The elevators were packed, going up, and Holly had to squeeze herself between two very large men carrying briefcases to make her way up to the top floor. As people left the lift to exit to their levels, Holly gave herself a short, meaningful pep talk to fill the time during the long ride up.Okay, Holly, you can do this. You can make it through this. This is just a building in a city, not one of the most major companies on the East Coast for marketing and international sales. So what if it controls eighty percent of the sales to China? All you’ll be doing it fetching coffee and picking up dry-cleaning. No big deal! Maybe you’ll address envelopes sometimes or water plants. Totally doable! Fake it until you make it. Or crash and burn…oh, God.
When she stepped onto the top floor, she was the last person aboard the elevator and entirely sure she should never be a motivational speaker.
The seventieth floor was as white and bright as the lobby below, but primarily empty. A receptionist tapped away on a keyboard. Across from her desk was a bright red couch for visitors, and three heavy oak doors against the far wall. Holly quietly walked up to the receptionist, her ID card clutched in her hand. The woman was a statuesque brunette wearing a chic sweater dress and a pair of fifties-inspired glasses. She stopped typing and looked up at Holly from behind her vintage eyewear.
“H-hi, I’m Holly McIntyre, the new assistant.“ She cleared her throat and held up her ID for proof, hoping the receptionist wouldn’t notice the wild shaking of her hand.
“Lovely.” The receptionist purred in a way that made Holly think of a cat that’d just spotted a defenseless mouse. “Go on in to Mr. Cantrell’s office. Begin filing the papers on top of the filing cabinet in alphabetical order. He’ll be in shortly to give you further instruction.”
Holly waited to be dismissed, but took the woman’s return to typing as her release. She walked back to the far wall to the three doors. One was labeled Meeting Room 1, the second Meeting Room 2, and the third read Cantrell in bold golden letters next to the door. Slowly, she grasped the handle and pushed the door open to let herself inside.
The room was large and richly furnished with a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows behind a stately desk. It was almost sterile-looking with no personal items to be seen between the imposing grandfather clock and leather armchairs. Holly looked around for a picture of her future boss, but the only art on the wall was a modern painting a man might’ve chosen—bright squares of red, blue, and black thrown onto a canvas. She thought a child could’ve put it together. It was nothing like the fine Italian frescos she’d seen online, nor like the famous reproductions of Monet paintings her parents had hanging in their restaurant back home. But what did she know about modern art? Holly had no doubt, however, that the simple piece had cost him thousands.
She placed her secondhand purse on one of the two guest chairs facing the desk and made her way to a very tall, large filing cabinet tucked into the corner of the room. Her hands began to sweat as she saw how monumental the cabinet was. While she was around five feet tall, the cabinet must have been seven feet high. Wondering if she could actually do her duties with this monstrous piece of office furniture, she tried reaching the stack of papers and manila envelopes, but her hands barely grazed the top of the cabinet. She glanced around for a stepladder, or a stool, but only saw the expensive chairs meant for guests. Not finding any other option, she pulled the empty chair toward the cabinet and hopped on, balancing on the plush cushion.
She had just grabbed the heavy stack when the office door burst open, causing her arms to fly up in surprise and the papers to scatter all over the floor, mimicking the worst kind of snowstorm. Holly immediately jumped off the chair with her hand covering her mouth to stifle a small shriek of surprise that escaped as a pained squeak. She had not been in the office more than five minutes and she’d already made a mess. What made it worse was that the only person to witness her shame was her boss, Jackson Cantrell.
***
Jackson raised a brow as he inspected his new assistant. She seemed as flighty as a bird, and almost as delicate.
“Oh, goodness! I’m so sorry, Mr. Cantrell…sir…I can’t believe I…” Holly dropped back to the floor and began sweeping the papers into a pile with her quivering hands. “I’m sorry…I didn’t…I couldn’t reach…”
Jackson bent down to her level and began sorting the papers into small piles, slightly uncomfortable with the anxious woman fidgeting on his office floor. “I take it you must be my new assistant?”
“Y-yes. I’m Holly McIntyre.” She looked up at him, green eyes glassy with fear. “I promise, I’m not always so clumsy.”
He was taken aback upon seeing her fully. She was a pleasant-looking woman with a heart shaped face and full lips. As she lifted her emerald eyes to his, peeking at him from beneath her thick lashes, Jackson had to clear his throat. “Good to meet you, Holly.”
“I’m really not like this. I’m very well organized and—”
Jackson held up a hand. “Please, it’s really not a big deal. Why don’t you just go get settled at your desk for now, and I’ll fix this.”
“My desk?” Her face was still pink from embarrassment; a feature Jackson found oddly endearing.
“Yes. Your office connects with mine so that I’ll be able to reach you easily during business hours.” He scooped the rest of the files up and stood, holding a hand out to her.
Holly smiled uneasily, showing off a row of perfectly white teeth. Her hand was delicate in his, and when she rose to standing, he was surprised to see she had rather shapely legs beneath the unflattering sack she wore. “Of course, Mr. Cantrell. Is there anything I can get for you? Latte? Coffee? Tea?”
He shot her a small smile, amused by her nervousness. “No, thank you. Go get settled.”
Holly snatched her purse and tucked it under her arm, disappearing into her adjacent office. Jackson watched her leave, noting how that dowdy suit, and ugly shoes, did little to show her apparent charms. His other assistants were always well-groomed and expertly dressed, looking at ease in their designer clothes. Holly McIntyre almost seemed like a little girl playing dress-up in her mother’s closet. He thought she would do better if she embraced her girl-next-door beauty instead of hiding it.
As he arranged the last of the files on his desk, he wondered if Holly had what it took to survive life in the big city.

Author Bio:Kelsey McKnight is a university-educated historian from southern New Jersey. She has married her great loves of romance, history, and literature to create her newly finished works. Her first books, "The Scottish Stone Series", are coming in April of 2017 by Limitless Publishing. Book one is titled "Queen of Emeralds", and is available now. "The Scottish Stone Series" take readers on a journey through the bustling streets of Victorian London and into the lush hills of the Scottish Highlands. Her second book, a contemporary romance titled "The Non-Disclosure Agreement", will also be available in May of 2017 and feature a bad boy politician and the small town girl that could change his ways. When she’s not writing, Kelsey can be found reading, drinking too much coffee, spending time with her family, and working on two nonprofits.

Friday, May 12, 2017

Having it all is a fantasy, right?
Chloe Browne knows all about fantasy. Fantasy is her job.
And she’s very, very good at what she does.
As director of design for the O Spa chain, a sophisticated women’s club that is trending its way into being the Next Big Thing, Chloe’s ready to take on the world.
One baby at a time.
Her home study’s done, and she’s about to adopt, a thirty-something single mother by choice. Who needs to put her life on hold for the right guy when the right baby is waiting for her?
Besides, talk about fantasy.
The right guy?
Pfft. Right.
And then in walks Nick Grafton, with those commanding sapphire eyes and wavy blonde hair and a sophisticated mouth that only smiles for her.
He’s perfect.
But the last thing Nick wants is to start fresh with a new baby as his college-age kids fly the coop. A single father for more than fifteen years after his wife walked out on her family, Nick finally tastes freedom.
But he likes the taste of Chloe more.
* * *
Our Options Have Changed is a full-length standalone contemporary romance, the first in the On Hold series by New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Julia Kent and journalist-turned-fiction-writer Elisa Reed. It is a loose spinoff from Julia Kent’s Shopping for a Billionaire series, with cameo appearances from favorite characters.
**BONUS ALL-NEW NOVELLA** from Julia Kent’s New York Times bestselling Shopping series! Read Shopping for a Billionaire’s Honeymoon. This 100-page bonus comes at the end of Our Options Have Changed. When Shannon can’t get workaholic Declan to give her the sexy honeymoon time she wants, she takes matters into her own hands — with hilariously disastrous (or disastrously hilarious?) results.

O is a twenty-first century club for sophisticated women. A fourth space for women of a discerning taste.
Home is the first space. Work is the second space. Third spaces are locations like coffee shops and malls.

O is the fourth space. The space where you can arrive. Rest. Relax. Indulge. Be someone you can’t be in the other three spaces.
Based on our membership rates, we’re onto something. Our investors are, shall we say, pleased.
O does have a public presence, thanks to our retail environments. In Boston, Chicago, San Francisco, and soon in New Orleans, sophisticated consumers can spend hours—and hundreds of dollars—browsing our selection of “elegant accessories for intimate pleasure.”
That’s right—sex toys. That’s what the masses call them. Except at O, we cater to a clientele that doesn’t want to be one of the hoi polloi. They want to be unique. In the know. Enlightened and cosmopolitan on the surface.
But a wildcat down…below.
Which makes a Grade C unacceptable. No one wants to be average.Especially down below.

Author Bio:

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men's room toilet (and he isn't a billionaire). She lives in New England with her husband and three sons in a household where the toilet seat is never, ever, down
Website: http://jkentauthor.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jkentauthor/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/jkentauthor
Elisa Reed is a journalist-turned-fiction-writer whose snappy, irreverent prose combines with an irrepressible zest for the simpler, and often intimate, pleasures of life to produce fun(ny) contemporary romance with a focus on second chances. New England born and bred, Elisa Reed now lives, writes, and plays in New Orleans and along the sugar sands of the Gulf Coast.
You can find her on Facebook at: http://www.facebook.com/elisareedauthor

When your luck runs out, do you run away—or do you stay and fight?
Bailey:
Let’s get one thing straight. I am not your typical girl. Sure I’ve got all the parts, but I’ve been a stubborn, irreverent tomboy since the womb, as my Irish father would proudly attest. Despite my Irish blood, I’ve had a bit of bad luck here and there—I recently trusted the wrong guy and got derailed in my professional pursuits. But I’ve bounced back. With my shields firmly in place, I thought nothing, or no one, could touch me again. Until he did. And he just might make this tomboy do the girliest thing in the world—fall head over heels in love. Of all the damn luck…
Jake:
I’m a pretty lucky guy. I have a phenomenal family, a career I love, and I’m building a brand-new life back in my hometown. And, not to be a jerk about it, but I do more than all right with the ladies. Everything’s been going according to plan—like I said, I’m a lucky guy.
That was, until my luck ran out.
Until I met the girl I call “Irish.”
Irony can go kiss my a$$.

I was struck again by the thought that everyone in the world seemed to be good with kids but me. And how unfair was it that Jake Beckett was not only hot as sin and a wizard in the sack, but he was also nice to small people and fainting women?

What was I supposed to do with that?
We finally pulled into the driveway and I hopped out quickly to avoid any awkward assistance that might be offered. Seeming to need no invitation, Jake followed us inside and closed the door behind him.
I took a deep breath and firmed my back as well as my resolve.
“As you can see, we’re all fine. I appreciate your concern—and the burritos—but everything is under control. We’ll go ahead and get on with our day and you can get on with yours.” I held my hand out toward the door like some damn restaurant hostess.
“Uh-huh,” he replied and had the nerve to lean against the entryway wall and put his hands in his pockets.
What was this? Was he posing for a bachelor-of-the-month calendar?
Gah!
I performed the hostess gesture yet again.
This time it received a grin.
“What?!” I demanded.
He looked me up and down. “Uh-huh.”
I became acutely aware of my attire and general appearance in that moment. I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks.
My hair was in a messy ponytail and I was dressed in athletic shorts and a men’s t-shirt. I didn’t need to look down to know there was a ketchup stain on the hem and a dinosaur riding a bicycle on the front. I have no explanation.
I urged myself to ignore Jake’s look and not even attempt to interpret it.
This moment perfectly captured the reason all Jake’s texts and calls had gone unanswered over the past three weeks.
He wasn’t texting me.
He was texting the girl from the wedding.
The girl I’d pretended to be for one night.
The girl I would never be.
The one I couldn’t afford to be.
(Copyright 2017 Sylvie Stewart)

Author Bio:

Sylvie Stewart’s addiction to books has been a lifelong problem. It was the cause of many scoldings when her mother discovered Sylvie army-crawling to the bookshelf after lights out. And it is the reason her husband would have a fairly solid case if he claimed “alienation of affection” and pointed a finger at her e-reader (a.k.a “The Precious”). Never-the-less, books are in Sylvie’s heart to stay, and she has transformed her love of books into a career as an author.
A recent move to North Carolina inspired Sylvie’s debut Romantic Comedy series. Carolina Connections is a collection of standalone novels based in her new hometown, and it combines her love of romance, humor, and sexy times. There is also some wine drinking incorporated in there, as this is another of Sylvie’s passions. Perhaps a future story will also involve kayaking, a new interest in Sylvie’s life. Experience has taught her that you can’t kayak and drink wine simultaneously, though, so don’t try this at home!
The Fix, The Spark, and The Lucky One are now available. The fourth book in the Carolina Connections series will release in Fall 2017.. That is, if Sylvie’s eight-year-old twins will stop trying to peek at her laptop while she’s writing. That might lead to some awkward parent-teacher conferences.

Release Date: May 9th 2017

Dana Hutson is about to make
one of the toughest decisions of her life: walking away from her twin and her
Pack. But the anger of her late mate’s betrayal burns deep, and her guilt
threatens to push her over the edge. Combined with the magic she was born with
intensifying to a lethal level, she has no choice but to leave Whiskey Hollow
in search of her inner peace. But what she finds could be more than she
bargained for.

Cooper Reed will do anything
to keep his sister and adopted daughter safe from the demented rogue Alpha of
the Bloodrose Creek Pack. That includes killing anyone who threatens his family
and going on the run. He is willing to do whatever it takes. He isn’t prepared
to find his mate in the midst of the chaos.

When even more secrets and
dangers come to light, Dana and Cooper must band together to stop the rogue and
his minions before all is lost. But will their bond be enough to harness the
power needed to defeat such a foe?

Excerpt:

Cooper’s home was on a corner lot and backed up to the forest, so he
mainly entered and left through the back door so no one on the street would see
him come or go.

Doing that now, he smiled as he sensed his adopted daughter close by.
His heart swelled while at the same time worry put him on edge. Edwin had made
it clear on more than one occasion that Hope was not to remain in the Pack. He
saw her as either a weakness or a threat. Cooper didn’t know which. He didn’t
know much of anything when it came his Alpha, mostly because Edwin was losing
his mind.

The enforcers had followed him around since Cooper had taken the
four-year-old orphan under his protection. Hope was what he’d named her, and
the thought of her brought a smile to his lips. Having children was something
he hadn’t really dwelled on. But when he’d first seen the curly blonde with the
big, green eyes, he’d instantly wanted to protect her.

The double click sound from a
dog-training clicker echoed from the living room. He’d given the clicker to
Hope as a way to call him. She was a deaf mute, and from what he’d been able to
uncover, which was very little, he believed she’d been born that way.

Entering the living room, he held in a laugh at the mess fanned out on
the title floor around her. About a dozen or so coloring books lay open,
circling her. Every crayon was out of the box.

Hope glanced at him, and a smile brightened her face then dulled as she
scanned her mess. Frantically, she closed the books and gathered them to her.
Cooper rushed to her, sat on the floor in front of her and grabbed her hands.
When she lifted her big green eyes, his heart melted. With a tender smile, he
brought her tiny hands to his mouth for a kiss then released them and signed,
“It’s okay. Play.”

Neither of them had known sign language before they met, but they were
learning it together with the help of Cooper’s sister, Celeste.

Hope smiled again and then darted her gaze over Cooper’s shoulder. He
knew his sister was there by her scent. Turning partway, he noted Celeste’s
frown, and her crossed arms. She most likely smelled the female from the
neutral zone. Damn, why hadn’t he gotten her name?

Her scent had instantly driven him crazy, and his wolf paced inside,
wanting to hunt her down and demand things he had no right to.

Ignoring his sister’s scowl, he grabbed a coloring book and stretched
out on his belly next to Hope. His adopted daughter copied him, grabbed her own
book, and began coloring.

“Who is she?” Celeste spoke in a soft, calm tone so as not to alarm
Hope. That was how they handled most of their arguments since Hope had come
into their lives. The little girl could pick up on strong emotions and loud
noises through her wolf senses. Celeste said that noise has a vibration to it
that those who are deaf, especially supernatural creatures, are highly
sensitive to. Hope was frightened by everything. So they kept their
conversations light in front of her.

When things got emotional, they took it outside, argued telepathically
like most wolves could, or waited until she went to bed.

“She’s my mate.”

He heard Celeste blow out a breath of annoyance. “We have enough
complications.”

About the Author:

In 2008, Lia Davis ventured
into the world of writing and publishing and never looked back. She has
published more than twenty books, including the bestselling A Tiger’s Claim,
book one in her fan favorite AshwoodFalls
series. Her novels feature compassionate yet strong alpha heroes who know how
to please their women and her leading ladies are each strong in their own way.
No matter what obstacle she throws at them, they come out better in the end.

While writing was initially
a way escape from real world drama, Lia now makes her living creating worlds
filled with magic, mystery, romance, and adventure so that others can leave
real life behind for a few hours at a time.

Lia’s favorite things are
spending time with family, traveling, reading, writing, chocolate, coffee,
nature and hanging out with her kitties. She and her family live in Northeast Florida battling hurricanes and very humid summers, but it’s
her home and she loves it! Sign up for her newsletter, become a member of her
fan club, and follow her on Twitter @NovelsByLia

I didn’t mean to, but I just dropped my glass again. It still happens—less than it used to. From time to time, my hands will shake uncontrollably, and whatever I’m holding will go crash, splatter, scatter on the floor, for Stiles to pick and clean up, as always.

“I’m sorry,” I say, without looking at him.
As he carefully mops the purple mess of broken glass and grape juice on the tiling, he smiles that sweet, empty smile he always gives me. Faded, like his baby blue eyes. “It’s all right; we’re good. That marble has seen worse.”
I mumble another apology, gazing past him and through the bay window, at the ghostly silhouettes of the snow-covered pines surrounding the castle. You can’t see the Baltic Sea, but it’s there, beyond the trees, encircling the island. My father sent me here to rest because he says it’s quiet; it’ll help me find myself again. “An island for Island,” he said, and it made him chuckle. When I’m depressed though, which is more often than I like to admit, I just think my world has shrunk to a mile-long rock.
“Island, are you still with me?”
I look up at Stiles and nod automatically, but in truth, for a second I didn’t recognize him. I mean, I did, but it’s his voice or, rather, his accent. He told me once he was born in a place called Denton, in Georgia, where time trickled slowly and people squeezed their pennies so hard the eagle screamed. He said he spent sixteen years there, hunting quail, skipping church, and waiting for something to happen—according to him, the rest of the town is probably still waiting. All he kept from his hometown is a soft drawl that will occasionally weigh on his vowels. There’s nothing wrong with that, but every time he opens his mouth, it’s like my brain is expecting something more, someone else, until the feeling is gone, and I remember that it’s just Stiles.
I don’t know; it’s just one of the many things that are wrong with me. I guess I’m still pretty messed up since my accident. I feel slow, confused most of the time. Everybody tells me it’s normal, that eight months is not much to recover from the kind of trauma I went through, that maybe it’ll take years. I hope not. I turned twenty-six in September, and I’d rather not stay a convalescent child for the rest of my life.
Once he’s done wiping the last pinkish smear, Stiles wastes no time crossing the kitchen and opening the fridge to grab the bottle of juice again. He reminds me of a big robot: The man is cut like a Terminator, and he never gives up, never gets distracted. I drop the glass where he put my meds? He’ll fetch another one. I never tried, but I’m pretty sure that if I dropped it ten times, he’d fix it all over again ten times too. Always the same gray dress pants, white shirt, and black tie every day, always the same blond crew cut I suspect never grows. I could complain he also looks forty every day, but that’d be unfair: it’s not like I’ve known him for so long.
My heart skips a beat at the distressing thought. I have. I’ve known him almost all my life, since the day my father hired him to take care of me. Bodyguard, nanny, nurse . . . friend, maybe?
How could I know? I don’t remember any of that.

Author Bio:

Camilla Monk is a French native who grew up in a Franco-American family. After finishing her studies, she taught English and French in Tokyo before returning to France to work in advertising. Today, she builds rickety websites for financial companies and lives in Montreal, where she keeps a close watch on the squirrels and complains on a daily basis about the egregious number of Tim Hortons.
Her writing credits include the English resumes and cover letters of a great many French friends, and some essays as well. She’s also the critically acclaimed author of a few passive-aggressive notes pasted in her building’s elevator.

Wednesday, May 10, 2017

Ancient Rome Collides with Present-Day and Only Love Can Save an Empire’s Collapse and Ensure Another’s Downfall!

Assassin's Honor

(Order of the Sicari #1)

Only love can save a telekinetic assassin's honor in a world where Ancient Rome never fell. Passion abounds in this award-winning series.

The Roman Empire never collapsed for Ares DeLuca and other Sicari. Ares comes from an ancient bloodline of telekinetic assassins who have lived in the shadows for two millennia. The Sicari are honor bound to kill only in the name of justice, but Ares broke the Order’s code and used his sword for revenge. Love cost him dearly once before, and he’s not willing to pay the price again. At least not until hot, sweet, delectable Emma enters his world. Not only does she have the ability to save an ancient empire’s collapse, she holds the key to a valuable Sicari relic and quite likely the key to his heart.

Archeologist Emma Zale sees the past when she touches ancient relics. It’s how she uncovered evidence of an ancient order of assassins—the Sicari. When a sinfully dark stranger shows up on her Chicago doorstep, he drags her into a world where ancient Rome still rules, and telekinesis and empaths are the norm. But someone wants her dead, and her only hope of survival is an assassin who’s every bit as dangerous to her body as he is to her heart.

Ancient Rome Collides with Present-Day Chicago and Only Love Can Save an Empire’s Collapse and Ensure Another’s Downfall

This award-winning series (reissued for the first time) starts off with a bang with an exciting combination of romance, suspense, sexy paranormal assassin heroes, and extraordinary world-building.

Unlike other Sicari, Lysander Condellaire has telepathic and telekinetic powers. Not until the night a Praetorian tortured him and left him for dead did he understand why. Now, the half-angelic, half-demonic face he sees in the mirror is a reminder of the monster he must keep hidden or face expulsion from the order of assassins known as the Sicari. But his dreams of ancient Rome hint at a destiny difficult to accept, especially when it involves the woman he loves, but can never have.

A gifted healer in the Order, Phaedra DeLuca witnessed her mother’s murder when she was a little girl. The haunting memory makes her loathe everything Praetorian. When she travels to Rome in search of an ancient artifact, she must work alongside a man who once cruelly rejected her love and healing touch. But her dreams of ancient Rome tell of an irreversible and possibly dangerous future. For the distant past and present are about to collide–with the one man she is destined to love.

The Sicari brotherhood is back and this time they're taking no prisoners when it comes to protecting the Order as warriors and lovers are torn between duty and desire.

Dante Condellaire, heir apparent to the Sicari Lords, knows that being a true leader means sacrifice. For Dante it was relinquishing all erotic pleasures. But he never expected his willpower to be tested so fiercely by Cleopatra Vorenus, expert assassin of the Order, and daughter of the man he is positioned to succeed.

Cleo prefers working alone—until she meets Dante who shares her goal: to destroy a Praetorian stronghold where Sicari women are imprisoned for devious purposes. Bringing the mission off without a hitch pumps up more than their resolve. It sets off a sexual spark too combustible to ignore.

As their attraction flares like an inferno, the stakes are raised. So are the risks. Before the mission is over, Dante and Cleo will be plunged into a dangerous conspiracy where a traitor threatens the very foundation of the Order, as well as the fiery bond between Dante and Cleo—warriors and lovers now torn between duty and desire.

“WOW! A kick-ass self-confident heroine and an alpha male with a side order of vulnerability practically guarantee a mind blowing reading experience." — Fresh Fiction

“I loved that Cleo is the experienced lover while Dante is the virgin. Hallelujah and pass the cornbread. The sexual tension in here had me on edge, waiting to see if Dante would succumb or abstain.” — Smexy Books

Monica Burns is a bestselling author of spicy historical and paranormal romance. She penned her first romance at the age of nine when she selected the pseudonym she uses today. Her historical book awards include the 2011 RT BookReviews Reviewers Choice Award and the 2012 Gayle Wilson Heart of Excellence Award for Pleasure Me.

She is also the recipient of the prestigious paranormal romance award, the 2011 PRISM Best of the Best award for Assassin’s Heart. From the days when she hid her stories from her sisters to her first completed full-length manuscript, she always believed in her dream despite rejections and setbacks. A workaholic wife and mother, Monica is a survivor who believes every hero and heroine deserves a HEA (Happily Ever After), especially if she’s writing the story.